The River to a Child

Scenes flash
Of happy children 
Of river and kind faces
The world was a refuge. 

Memory
Of city lights and running people
Of shallow laughter, dagger eyes
The world is a battlefield. 

Love is classic
Like a pallete
The paint dried
The image was destroyed.

Alone is freedom
Freedom is eternity
Silence nourish
A seeking soul.

Childhood is a memory
Always a refuge
The rivers doesn't flow anymore
But old kind faces with smile endured. 

Life is beautiful
Made perfect by battlefields
Scenes flash again
Not of rivers but mountain breeze.

The breeze is a kiss
Sent by the river
For the child
That never forget.